An: Sequel to The Last Fragments of You. As last time focus will mainly be on Faye. All other notes at the bottom!
Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop.
The Pieces of Us
Alternative Therapy
Prologue
Ansel Rougierre walked through the charred hallway in the Lions Syndicate. It appeared it had only been a few hours since the battle that took place here had ended and as far as Ansel could see the main bulk of the casualties had been Lion members. The Lions Headquarters was creaking and shuttering around the few guards who had come with Ansel, many of the guards gingerly stepping about the place in fear that it would collapse on them. Their eyes were continuously lingering on the ceiling and loose plaster on the walls with each extended groan that caused the floorboards beneath their feet to shake. Ansel was impervious to all but the bodies that lay strewn across the floors.
His gait was easy and lax, casually stepping over still smoldering debris that blocked his path and not even bothering to take note of the pieces of plaster that dangerously dangled from only several pieces of splintered wood above his head. His eyes were focused on the bodies, taking in the number of bullets that riddled their skin and had followed the trail of bloodshed to this point of the fifty-seventh floor of the Lions Headquarters. Ansel's pace slowed and then completely stopped when he drew even with the door that had once led to Francois's office. Dried blood coated the remains of the oak door, pooled both by the door and the side of the office and was connected by a long smudge streak from a body that had been pulled from on position to the other.
Ansel studied the room and a pale blond eyebrow rose with interest. Ansel studied the path of the blood, along with the footsteps that had slide through it and easily noted that there had been more than one fight. Gray eyes followed the tracks left behind by the second fight and the path down the hall to where a single guard was slowly bending down to crouch over a prone body. Almost instantly the man tensed up and turned his eyes in Ansel's direction, his voice exhibiting the panic that was slowly gripping him. "Monsieur Roguierre!"
Another groan from the foundations of the building echoed up through the crumbling structure. The guard anxiously stood, eyes locked on the loose pieces of plaster and backed up closer to the wall. Several pieces of plaster crashed about Ansel, and instead of ducking and stepping away from the destruction, a wide smirk creased his features and he took several steps closer to the body and the guard. "Is that our dear Francois?" The guard brought his gaze down from the ceiling to where Ansel was closing the distance between them, not sure how to take the humor that was laced in his leader's voice managed a slight nod in response.
Ansel came up to Francois's side, his light eyes surveying the body and pausing over the knife that was still jutting out of the junction of Francois's shoulder and neck before examining the bullet hole in Francois's forehead. Ansel tsked lightly; head shaking in what the guard supposed was mock disappointment. "Dear, dear Francois." Ansel slowly knelt, his long fingers softly pushing Francois's blood crusted hair from out of his still wide open eyes. Ansel looked up at the guard who was standing across from him, watching with barely concealed interest. Ansel's eyes narrowed and softly cleared his throat. "We need to clean up this mess that Francois left behind. Get what guards you can find and gather anything and everything that could be useful or that can be incriminating. It wouldn't do to have conflicts with the ISSP at this point." The guard stared blandly at Ansel for several seconds before he nodded and started to head down the hall. Ansel's voice made him pause. "You have an hour . . . then I'm going to blow this place." The warning was clear enough; Ansel would blow the place with or without those incriminating objects. The guard nodded stiffly and took off at a jog to find anybody who could help him.
Ansel waited until the guard and vanished down the stairs before he turned his eyes back to Francois and his grin held a malicious edge. "It's such a shame, Francois. To think, I might feel more remorse over your death if I liked you better. As it is, I think Pierre had the right ideas about you. But, what does it matter now - you won't be commanding anybody." Ansel's voice faded when the sound of running footsteps were clamoring up the stairwell behind him.
Ansel didn't bother to look up as the footsteps stomped into the hallway and a voice labored to speak over his heavy breathing. "Monsieur! Monsieur Rougierre!" The man sprinted towards Ansel, the guard's pace slowing when he finally saw the man he sought. "We have found Pierre!"
Ansel looked at the guard for the first time as he slide to a halt over the debris in the hall and almost crashed into Ansel. The man hunched over when he finally came to a rest, his hands bracing against his knees while he tried to catch his breath. Ansel felt a tick of annoyance cause his eyebrow to twitch. "Well?" Ansel's impatient tone forced the guard's head to rise and when he saw the glare in his leader's eyes, he slowly straightened.
The guard swallowed roughly. "He's dead . . ." The guard had to look away as Ansel's sharp eyes locked on his and he found himself shivering involuntarily. "His body was found outside at ground level. He is bullet ridden … and it appears that he fell from one of the upper story windows or possibly the roof because his skull is crushed."
Ansel's face remained passive at this information, but his cool eyes were intensely studying the guards face. "And Luc Delmont? Do we know what happened to him?"
The guard nodded. "Yes, Monsieur. From what we can gather, he was gravely wounded, however it was recently confirmed that he is still alive. Apparently he had some outside help. The Savior of Lost Souls was here and a man named Spike Spiegel."
Ansel's eyes narrowed but were alight with interest. "Spike Spiegel? As in the former Red Dragon member? The Spiegel Pierre was after?"
"Yes, Monsieur. But he's no longer a former member, Monsieur. From what our sources tell us, it appears that he has become the Red Dragon Leader." The guard announced more confidently now that he didn't see any future retribution for the message he carried.
Ansel turned his gaze back to Francois's frozen face, a malicious smirk once again pulling at the corners of his mouth. "And how did that come about?" The guard shrugged at the question and Ansel laughed softly. "I see." There were several long moments of silence in which neither man moved. Ansel finally gave a soft sigh his annoyance with the man had reached it's peak. "Is there anything else?"
The guard's confidence dropped as quickly as it had come and he found his voice faltering when he tried to speak next. "Actually, Monsieur, it's about Luc Delmont." The guard paused again and when Ansel didn't look back at him he pressed on. "He was thinking ahead. He's already taken some steps to obtain control of the Lions." The guard paused again to see how Ansel would take the information. When he remained passive the guard quickly pressed on. "You know, Monsieur, with Pierre and Francois dead … I doubt many of the Syndicate members would put up much of a fight to his ruling. I mean, considering that he is the next rightful leader. Many members would think it only right that he should take over . . ." The guard trailed off; the hopeful tinge in his voice hinting at the guard's own wish for the civil war in his syndicate to end.
Ansel sneered at the words and the only motion from him was his hand slowly reaching out to tenderly caress Francois' bloody cheek. "Does this mean that many of my men believe that Luc Delmont is the rightful Leader?" His voice was soft; the first vestiges of anger were thriving on the edges of the words. "That he, as a Colonist, deserves the position that Pierre and Francois were fighting so hard to obtain? Fighting to keep it out of Colonist hands?"
The guard shook his head rapidly in dismissal of the idea. "No, Monsieur, I was simply suggesting that many of us are sick of fighting. We don't want power to be in the hands of a Colonist anymore than you do, Monsieur. But many of us, well no, I have heard his ideas for the Syndicate, Monsieur, and he doesn't stand for all the laws that Pierre and Francois were fighting against. Colonist or not, he has the right ideas."
The tips of Ansel's fingers trailed down Francois's face to barely trace the jaw line before they came to a rest where the knife was embedded in the junction of the throat and shoulder and slowly curled about the knife's hilt. "I suppose you could be right." With those words Ansel viciously yanked the knife from the cold and hard body, sprang to his feet, and let the blade fly, the curdled blood covered point finding its mark and sinking deeply into the guards' throat. His gray eyes found the guard stumbling earthward, his hands wrapping around and clutching at the blade as a low gargling echoed from the base of his throat. "But you see . . . you aren't. No Colonist will ever rule while I live. I will make sure of that." The wide eyes of the guard watched Ansel with disbelief and finally slumped to the ground as death claimed him.
Ansel ran a hand through his pale blond hair before he turned his eyes back to Francois and stepped over the body without a second look. He headed to the stairwell and glanced at his watch. He had fifteen minutes; fifteen minutes before he blew up the remains of the Old Lions Headquarters and with it anything that could possibly hold him back. With both Pierre and Francois dead, the men would look to someone to guide them. With all the confusion it wouldn't take much to be that person. In fact, it would be simple. He had already taken the first steps for Pierre had done most of the dirty work for him when he had formed his plan to go against Francois.
Pierre had already killed the Elders and formed an alliance with many of the guards. Many of the men knew that Pierre trusted Ansel and their alliance would easily transfer to him amidst the confusion. All he had to do was play the card of avenging Pierre, and he would easily obtain leadership over any of the stragglers. All he really needed to worry about was killing Luc Delmont. That was where the challenge was. The Savior of Lost Souls wasn't that much of a concern. Why would a woman who stole children care if he, a member of the Lions took control of the Syndicate. It was Monsieur Spiegel that irked him.
Ansel looked up as a guard came running into the stairwell looking flustered, his arms full of what few weapons that Ansel assumed was still usable from the armory. Ansel studied the man who was struggling to keep balance and keep hold of everything. Ansel felt a smirk curve his lips as he watched the man. If he was going against the entire Red Dragon Syndicate than so be it, but he would need to be well armed in both weapons and information. If this was the same man that Pierre had been after and if what Pierre had said about Spiegel was true, then killing the man would not be as simple as gaining the trust of the strewn Lions members. Ansel reached out and grabbed the overloaded guard his grin growing even wider. "I have a new assignment for you. I want you to gather all the information you can on a Monsieur Spike Spiegel. I want to know what makes the Red Dragon Leader tick."
AN: Hey guys! I'm back! I've been telling you for a while that I would be writing a sequel to Fragments and here it is! As always I don't edit very well so please excuse typos and such. I promise the first real chapter will be out in January. As always let me know what you guys think. Thought I'd introduce the "villain" first, see what you thought of him. This isn't much but at least it's a start! Hope you enjoyed this. Take it easy!